


the drugs don't work (they just make you worse)

by vincen0ir



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer
Genre: M/M, aka claire was looking at tfios and got emotional, i was crying 2 minutes into writing this, sAd sAD SAD DEAR FUCKING GOD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vincen0ir/pseuds/vincen0ir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he guesses that it's meant to hurt like this, like someone's ripped his heart out right in front of him. he's hollow, achingly so, desperate to fill the bereft cavities of his body with luke, luke, luke. it's all he wants, and it's all he'll ever want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the drugs don't work (they just make you worse)

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to the drugs don't work by the verve & buzzcut season by lorde because they're vERY RELEVANT !!!

michael hurts.

he guesses that it's meant to hurt like this, like someone's ripped his heart out right in front of him. he's hollow, achingly so, desperate to fill the bereft cavities of his body with luke, luke, luke. it's all he wants, and it's all he'll ever want. he wants luke, goddammit, wants to entwine his fingers with luke's dexterous digits, kiss his pouty-pink lips, tug on that goddamn metal hoop that laid embedded in his lip. he's never felt more goddamn alone in his life.

calum and ashton can't do a damn thing but sit by and watch their best friend fall into this spiraling, dark pit of depression. michael's lost the light behind his eyes, and he hasn't smiled in god knows how long. the pastel blue that coloured his hair has disappeared -- it's back to a dismal, unwashed blonde that hangs long and limp round his face. he hasn't even bothered to cut it, and it's starting to curl round his jawline. there are permanent tear tracks painted onto his cheeks, ashton thinks they won't ever wash out.

michael knows that. nothing is going to wash out now.

*

 

neither of them knew how sick luke was until he collapsed in the hallway.

admittedly, michael thought his boyfriend was just tired. when he didn't wake up, michael started to freak out -- truth be told, he nearly had a panic attack. the love of his average, typical teenage life was lying motionless on the floor and he couldn't do anything but call the ambulance and wait for him to wake up.

brain cancer was never meant to hurt that bad.

michael faints when he hears. when he comes around, with bath salts under his nose and a cool flannel pressed to his forehead, he has an insanely hard time trying not to burst into tears. luke just keeps looking at him, with wide blue eyes that seemed to scream, "well what the fuck do i do now?" michael just can't look anywhere. 

when the doctor says luke has 2 months at best, michael loses it. he bursts into tears and he can't do anything about it. crystal-clear saltwater rivers flow from his eyes and wiping them away is futile, every attempt at reality is futile. there's nothing real left in this world. luke robert hemmings is going to die in 2 months, maybe even sooner and michael was going to propose. fuck, he was going to get married to the boy that's sat across from him, the boy with the tumor in his clever head. he had plans, he had a big fucking diamond. 

he proposes when he gets home. luke's crying now, sobbing the word 'yes' while michael slides that ring onto his finger. they just stay locked on the floor after that, letting their emotions flow like paint. they're crying, laughing, thinking about the limited future that they have together and there's a certain sense of immediate, terrible sadness about it but michael is too happy to care. he has his boy -- and sure, maybe it's only for two more months but it's like that thought has faded away for a minute, leaving only immeasurable ecstasy in it's place.

they make love that night, soft and slow with panted whispers of "i love you" interlaced between quiet groans and feminine moans. they never stop holding hands and once both boys have let their orgasms take total control of their bodies, they curl up in bed, beneath rumpled sheets that smell of sweet sex and fresh linen.

 

*

their wedding is possibly the most stunning thing ever.

michael planned it out in a day and hell, it's not fancy but it's something. he ended up calling ashton and calum in to help, along with their mums. luke just sits on the couch and laughs at them, insulting them lovingly from afar and telling the cluster of women off.

"i'm dying, mum, i'm not going to wear pink."

michael's smile falters there because ow, he nearly forgot about the disease that's attacking his baby's brain. luke must have noticed, because he pushes himself up and curls his body around michael's, pressing a kiss to the side of his cheek.

the actual ceremony is, in ashton's words, fucking adorable. their backyard has been transformed beautifully -- candles are lit, and they sit on the edge of the pool, casting their bright light on the dreamy reflection of the water's surface. pale pink roses curl together with white ones across an arch, and underneath that is where michael and luke will say their vows and luke will ditch his last name, say goodbye to his former identity and become lucas robert clifford. he's been coveting that title since their lips first met in a messy clash of too much tongue and not enough beautiful lips. 

michael chose to write his own vows, so did luke. he nearly chokes up when he has to read them. he keeps his eyes focused on luke, and the way he looks. his hair isn't nearly as quiffed as usual and he looks so stunning in his suit, thin black tie lying effortlessly against his crisp shirt. he looks so beautiful. 

"lucas robert hemmings, we hated each other when we first met. it's funny, when i looked at you i never thought i'd be marrying you but here we are. i love you, more than i could ever say. in the words of augustus waters, my thoughts are stars i cannot fathom into constellations and when i think of you, the sky is limitless and every star is an adjective for your eyes. i love you, and i will never stop. you are my everything, and i'm so glad that i can finally call you mine. mine, mine, mine. lucas robert clifford -- my husband."

michael actually starts to cry when luke starts reading his own vows out.

"michael gordon clifford, we both know that i have a limited number of days left. however, you've given me a little infinity between these numbered days and shit, i didn't know our wedding was going to have a distinct 'the fault in our stars' theme but apparently it has. in the words of hazel grace lancaster, you've given me a forever inside these numbered days. even when i'm dead and gone, i will still proudly wear this ring and i'll go to my grave as lucas robert clifford, husband and lover. i love you."

 

*

 

luke robert clifford dies two weeks after he speaks his vows.

michael can't believe it. he thinks it's all a dream for a little while. luke had been admitted into hospital a week after the wedding, when he collapsed again. he'd been getting worse but towards the end, he seemed to be alright. he was laughing, eating, telling michael to read to him. he'd even insisted that michael should go home for a night, sleep in their bed and relax. 

"promise you'll be alive when i come back in the morning, lukey?" michael had whispered the words against luke's lips when he kissed him, eyes shut to fight off forming tears.

"i promise. i love you."

when his phone had rang the next morning, he thought luke might have gotten better. when he sees, with heavy eyelids, that the caller i.d. reads 'liz', he gave up. it's like his heart had been wrapped in chains, attached to a brick and thrown into an endless ocean. 

he doesn't even bother to drive -- he just runs to the hospital and god, maybe he'll catch luke in his last few moments. he's got his hopes high but shit, this is his husband and he promised early on that luke would never die alone.

he's too late.

it doesn't hit him until he bursts in through the door to see liz sobbing in the corner. luke is still, perfect, angelic in his hospital bed, eyes closed and lips sealed. michael screams, right there and then and nurses have to try and pull him back, guard him as he tries to clamber into bed with the gorgeous corpse of his husband. ashton and calum arrive almost seconds later, disheveled by sheets and the promise of sleep. michael falls into their arms as soon as they arrive -- he vomits on ashton's shoes, too.

*

luke's funeral is the saddest thing that michael has ever witnessed.

he can't stop crying all through it. he's wearing luke's suit, the one he wore for his wedding and it still smells like him and it's a bit too big but he couldn't care less. he can barely read the eulogy he's written and when he goes to peek at the coffin, he breaks down.

luke's hair has been quiffed, high as ever. the ring in his lip has been replaced and he looks absolutely perfect, a figure of stone beauty. michael leans in to press a long, drawn-out kiss to luke's lips and they're freezing. that's it for him -- he runs out there and then, he vomits in the carpark and bursts into an endless flow of angry, hot tears. calum drives him home.

he spends the night drinking whatever's in the house. he can't remember his own name by the time he's finished but luke, luke is still in his mind. lucas robert clifford nee hemmings, edging towards his 18th birthday when he died. they had plans to go to france, too -- michael wanted to kiss luke under the eiffel tower. luke thought they'd get thrown out of the country.

michael falls into bed crying, and wakes up to find his pillow-case soaked. the pounding headache is nothing to soothe the hollow ache in his chest.

*

that's how michael got to where he is now, a ghost of his former self. he won't eat, won't play guitar, hasn't tweeted for three months. he rarely goes anywhere and he gets drunk and does anything to get the taste of luke's lips off his. he refuses to heal the wound that luke's left on his life. 

ashton and calum are just worried for him. they exchange worried glances every time michael disappears into the bathroom and runs the tap, they both know it's a cover up. they've seen how glassy his eyes are when he comes back.

michael just wants luke back, more than anything. he wants to be held, wants to be reassured that the world isn't going to end even though it's already ended, for fuck's sake. michael lost his angel, the one person that kept him sane. now he's resorted to snorting blurred lines off the bathroom counter and drinking down as much vodka as he can, to dress the aching wound in his chest.

he doesn't see anyone else. he only ever lets calum and ashton in, and occasionally his mum. everyone else has been shut out. he hasn't checked his phone since the day luke slipped out of consciousness and stopped breathing, and he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to go onto tumblr and see the 'luke robert hemmings: 1996-2014' posts. he doesn't want to go onto twitter and scroll through millions of apologies and 'i'm sorry' notes. he doesn't even check his texts.

he's dead to the world. he's slipped into a coma just as bad as luke's, and he doesn't think he'll ever get out of it.

nothing is right without luke.


End file.
